Italian Doctor, Dream Proposal / Wanted: A Father for her Twins

by Margaret McDonagh / Emily Forbes

  He took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze as if it was the most natural of gestures between friends, before letting it go again as if it was just that, a gesture of comfort between friends. He wasn’t to know his touch gave her palpitations and had her thinking thoughts not fit for the responsible guardian of two young children.

  ‘Besides, I think we had a mini-moment of progress at the last appointment.’ He filled her in on Charlie’s note and boiled-lolly present.

  ‘Really?’ She’d been thrilled at the coffee shop to see Charlie interacting happily with Nick. Now, even though it was a long shot, part of her hoped that perhaps Charlie was nearer a breakthrough than even his psychologist thought. Just how integral would Nick be to a breakthrough?

  ‘All up, it looks to me you’re doing pretty well. You know Charlie can speak, he just mostly chooses not to. It will come with time. Just make sure you don’t give him excuses or reasons not to talk. Don’t let the accident with his parents become an excuse for his mutism. Treat him the same way you treat Lucy.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll try to do that.’ They walked in silence for a moment or two, Rosie trying not to read anything into the fact that their strides were perfectly matched—length, speed, they were all in place. ‘Does that count as a scheduled consult?’

  He laughed. ‘Consider it a gift between friends.’

  They caught up to the children then. Lucy was on the swing in the playground and Charlie was perched on the sea wall, watching a game of beach cricket.

  ‘The shop’s just there,’ said Rosie, gesturing to the stationery shop right across the road.

  ‘Charlie, what say you and I see if they need a few more beach cricketers? Sounds better than shopping, right?’

  Charlie didn’t hesitate, nodding vigorously and looking to Rosie for permission.

  Nick seemed to have the magic touch as far as Charlie was concerned.

  And as for her? She knew the answer, not that it made a jot of difference to anything she’d do.

  She stood watching the man and boy head down to the sand. Nick looked back over his shoulder. He called back to her, shaking his head at her, laughter in his eyes, ‘Charlie and I’ll be fine doing some bloke stuff. Just meet us on the beach when you’re done. No hurry.’

  And that was it. Off they went, Charlie trotting beside Nick as if they did this every Sunday. Not even a backward glance.

  Just how magic was this man, to have worked such a miracle of trust in Charlie in such a short space of time?

  Rosie expected that by the time Lucy had made her decisions in the stationery shop the boys would be ready to call it quits but the game was still in full swing and Charlie was in the thick of it. Silent, but participating. Lucy sat in the sand admiring her purchases and writing in Emma’s birthday card, leaving Rosie free to sit in the sun and watch the game. She told herself she wasn’t joining in because she didn’t want to intrude on Charlie’s male bonding time but she knew it was really because, sitting here hidden behind her sunglasses, she was free to look where she liked.

  And she liked to look at Nick.

  It was Charlie’s turn to bowl and Nick was giving him some tips, bending down beside Charlie, his knees slightly bent with his hands resting on his thighs. His boardshorts were pulling taut across his hips and Rosie admired the view she had from behind. The fabric of his T-shirt was stretched across his back and she could imagine the ripple of muscles running from his shoulder blades to his hips. He stood up, returning to his position as Charlie ran in to bowl.

  To say Charlie’s first ball was a little wide would be too kind but Nick praised his effort and then directed him to bowl from the other side of the wickets.

  The next ball was much better and the batter connected, hitting it right in the middle of his bat, sending it hurtling through the air. Nick took off, his muscled calves pumping as he ran through the soft sand towards the ball. He dived to his right and caught the ball mere inches above the ground.

  He leapt to his feet, one hand held above his head in celebration, before he ran to Charlie, giving him a big high five. Charlie slapped his palm against Nick’s, not at all self-conscious about the attention. In fact, he was smiling more widely than Rosie had seen him do for a long while.

  Rosie joined in the cheers and Charlie turned his smile on her, as carefree as any ordinary eight-year-old. Nick turned, following Charlie’s gaze, made their excuses to the beach team and headed over to her, Charlie padding by his side.

  ‘You were great, Charlie. Terrific bowling.’

  ‘What about my catch?’ Nick asked, dusting sand from the front of his shorts.

  Rosie struggled to keep her focus on his face and away from his hands. She stood up, bringing herself to a higher, less vulnerable position. ‘Not bad.’ Pretty darned good, actually, but she wasn’t brave enough to say that.

  ‘Charlie and I make a pretty good team.’

  Charlie nodded his agreement.

  ‘You do, but I’m afraid that’s it for today, Charlie. We’ve got to get Lucy to Emma’s party.’

  ‘I had a great time, thanks, Charlie. We’ll do it again another day.’

  Nick shook Charlie’s hand and, again, Charlie made eye contact with Nick. The nephew appeared as smitten by Nick’s charm as the aunt. Rosie waved Lucy over and they retraced their steps along the esplanade, the twins racing ahead once again.

  ‘Slow down, you two, you’ll trip if you’re not careful,’ Rosie called after them, but the children sprinted off as if they hadn’t heard her.

  ‘Would you like to catch up during the week, just the two of us, maybe see a movie, have a bite to eat? You know.’ His grin was electric and full of cheek. ‘Two friends hanging out?’

  Rosie’s heart did a slow somersault in her chest, feeling like it collided with every other organ on its rotation. This time she didn’t doubt her instincts. He’d tagged the ‘friends’ comment on again but the look in his eyes gave his words deeper meaning. This time she was prepared to bet he was as attracted to her as she was to him. The ‘friends’ tag was a cover for both of them, giving them a way to get to know each other with no expectations, or because he had no intention of a real involvement. But did that matter? He wanted to spend time with her. She had a friend. And for the first time since she’d moved to Sydney, maybe even for quite a while before that, she felt like she was coming to life again, as if Nick was pouring precious water on the lonely, parched earth her life had become.

  But it was precious water she’d have to forgo this time.

  ‘I’d love to but I’m already going out on Tuesday night. I’m meeting my girlfriend. I don’t want to ask Mum to help out more than once a week.’ This was the first time she’d actually seen her friend Alison for anything other than a quick coffee since she’d got to Sydney. The first time she’d been out properly, in fact, other than the dinner last night. Just her luck! She wouldn’t be going at all if it wasn’t for the fact Ally had begged for her support. Why did doing the right thing by others always seem to equate to her missing out? Maybe this time it didn’t have to? ‘Can I take a rain check?’

  ‘No problem. Just let me know the next time you have a free night.’

  ‘I—’ Rosie’s reply came to an abrupt halt as she saw Charlie go sprawling across the footpath up ahead. ‘Charlie!’ She ran towards him as fast as her inappropriate footwear would let her. Flip-flops were not made for running.

  Nick overtook her and by the time she reached the children Charlie was sitting up, looking at the blood gushing from his skinned knees and palms. Tears were welling in his eyes but she could see he was trying to be brave. Lucy was crouched beside him.

  Rosie knelt down and scooped Charlie onto her lap, wrapping him in her arms. ‘You’ll be okay, Charlie. I know it hurts.’

  Charlie’s shoulders were shaking with silent sobs as tears ran down his cheeks. Even his crying was done in silence when he was in public.

  Rosie’s first instinct was to get him home so she cou
ld clean his grazes but Lucy had other ideas.

  ‘You need to sing to him. Sing him the song Mum always sings when we get hurt.’

  Lucy was talking about her mum in the present tense. Rosie had no clue about the song. Her confusion must have been written on her face.

  ‘You know, the one about the mockingbird.’

  She knew it, and she started to sing, conscious of Nick standing beside her family as they knelt on the footpath. When she paused, searching for the half-remembered words.

  Lucy prompted her, joining in with her little-girl lilt.

  As they sang in unison Charlie’s sobs finally subsided as he wiped his eyes. Rosie held him close, nestling her face into the warm curve of his neck, before helping him to his feet.

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ she said to both the children, hoping she would be proved right. She was talking more about their lives in general than about Charlie’s grazed knees. ‘Do you think you can walk? We’d better get you home and patched up.’

  Charlie nodded. His grazes would be painful but they weren’t deep. If she could distract him, he wouldn’t have any trouble getting home.

  ‘Will you be okay with them both?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Sure.’ Knowing he was about to leave them, she wished she could ask for his help, just to extend the morning, but she didn’t really need his assistance. And she probably wouldn’t have asked even if she had needed it.

  He laid his hand on her upper arm, his touch on her bare skin delicious. ‘Sure?’ He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way she already loved.

  She nodded, the touch of his hand rendering her speechless. For one delicious moment she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her goodbye. But the moment passed and suddenly he was saying a hearty farewell to the twins. As he turned to go, he tipped an imaginary hat to Rosie and said quietly, his voice deep and rich and satisfying to her ears, ‘I think I should warn you, I have a thing for girls who can sing.’

  And then he gave her a wink that left her unsure if he’d been teasing or flirting, but either way it made her whole body tingle and the feeling stayed with her for the rest of the day.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ROSIE took a deep breath and pushed open the gallery doors. Going to events on her own was not her forte, especially when she’d been out of circulation for so long. It was silly but it would be easier to turn around and head for home.

  Her apprehension settled when she found Alison, as small and dark as Rosie was tall and fair, standing just inside the main gallery, greeting guests.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, stretching up to kiss Rosie on both cheeks. ‘Thanks for coming. The other girls aren’t here yet. Grab a glass of bubbly and stay with me for a bit while I say hello to a few people.’

  A waitress handed Rosie a drink and she picked up a catalogue and flicked through it while Alison switched back and forth between chatting to her and greeting guests.

  ‘The exhibition is a collaboration between emerging indigenous artists from Australia and New Zealand. There are some incredible works. If you’re smart, you could pick up a few great investments.’

  ‘Who would you recommend?’ Not that she would be purchasing anything. Taking leave without pay from work didn’t fit with splashing out on art, no matter how great it was.

  ‘There’s a young Aboriginal artist whose paintings are on the end of this wall.’ Alison waved her hand down the room. ‘He’s worth a look,’ she said as she handed a catalogue to another couple as they walked past. ‘And there are some stunning woodcarvings by a New Zealand artist just next to that. Her bio is on page fifteen.’

  Rosie glanced down, flicking through the pages. She hadn’t yet found the page when Alison nudged her in the ribs and spoke in a smoky murmur that alerted Rosie that her friend had spotted some talent. ‘Have a look at what just walked in. Remember, if he’s straight, I saw him first.’

  Rosie looked up and had no trouble spotting which good-looking guy her friend was talking about. ‘Get in line, Ally, I’ll introduce you.’

  ‘You know him?’ Ally gave her a sideways glance. ‘You’re a dark horse. Have you been refusing my invites because you’ve been secretly canoodling with that lovely gentleman?’

  ‘Yes, I know him, but there’s been no canoodling.’

  ‘But you want to, right? And if you don’t, can I go to the front of the line?’ Alison was practically hanging off Rosie’s arm, imploring her friend to play nice.

  ‘Shh,’ muttered Rosie just as Nick caught sight of her past the few people standing between them.

  ‘Rosie!’ Nick walked towards her, breaking into a huge grin. As usual, his smile went straight to the core of her, igniting her senses and all but melting her insides. ‘So this is your mysterious Tuesday night function.’ He laid a hand on her arm and kissed her on the cheek, just as she’d imagined he was going to do at the beach. He did it so easily, so naturally, as if he’d done the same thing a hundred times, no big deal, whereas she’d been imagining the moment over and over since Sunday.

  It was only the softest brush of his lips but she knew how right she’d been to anticipate it and she savoured the touch of his mouth, a flare of heat flashing over her skin. If this was a chaste kiss on the cheek, what magic would his mouth work on her lips?

  She wanted to know.

  Soon.

  Alison cleared her throat, bringing Rosie back to reality.

  Rosie resisted the urge to shake her head to clear her mind, surprised to find her hand was on Nick’s arm. She must have reached out automatically as he’d kissed her. She covered her surprise by giving him a little tap as if that was why she’d touched him in the first place, before removing her hand to gesture to Ally. ‘Nick, this is my friend Alison. She manages the gallery.’

  ‘Alison, it’s a great set-up you’ve got here.’ Nick shook her hand. Cool, calm, collected. How much she wanted to affect him as he did her. She knew she couldn’t get involved, her focus had to be on the twins, not on her own desires, but how wonderful it would feel to know she had the option.

  She watched as Ally looked Nick up and down and felt a tweak of satisfaction when she saw the look of appreciation in her friend’s eyes. She knew Ally was taking in every detail of Nick’s appearance and, if asked afterwards, her artist’s eye would recall everything.

  It was worth recalling.

  His outfit, black jeans and shirt, wasn’t dissimilar to what a dozen other men in the room were wearing. But none wore their clothes as well as Nick. His jeans, slightly faded, hugged his hips and his shirt fitted him so well it looked as though it had been handmade for him. His shirt was untucked and his hair was a little unruly. He looked perfectly at home, more like one of the artists than one of the invited corporate suits that he must be. She, on the other hand, despite being a veteran of opening nights thanks to her years with Philip, was never quite sure she’d chosen the right outfit. The only thing that saved her was her slim build and height, which meant clothes tended to hang well on her.

  ‘Nice meeting you, Nick. If you’ll excuse me, there are a few people I need to schmooze with. Will you look after Rosie while I do the rounds?’ Ally had finished giving Nick the once-over and clearly felt he was worth Rosie’s spending time with.

  ‘It would be my pleasure.’

  Ally left with good grace, though not before she’d managed to mouth to Rosie behind Nick’s back, ‘He’s a keeper,’ and given her a thumbs-up.

  Rosie pretended she’d seen nothing as she asked Nick, ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I take it it’s not where you’d expect to find me.’

  ‘I guess not. I wouldn’t have picked you as an art lover. I can see you at the beach, the cricket, saving lives. But art exhibitions?’ She rocked her hand in the air to indicate her ambivalence. ‘Not so much.’

  ‘I know how to appreciate beautiful things…’ He paused as his eyes scanned her face. ‘As well as the next cultural aficionado.’ His tone was enough to make her face warm even if
the heat of his glance hadn’t made his meaning clear.

  She stuck with the literal interpretation of his comment. She had no idea how to respond to the other, more personal message. ‘So you go to a lot of art shows?’

  He laughed. ‘No, you’re right, it’s not really my thing. An old friend from New Zealand is in town for work, this is his only free evening and he wanted to come here, so this is where we’re catching up. James works in Perth now, we don’t see each other often.’

  ‘Was there something special he wanted to see here tonight?’

  Nick cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. ‘Someone we know has some work exhibited. James was keen to come and since his time is tight, we thought we’d start here.’ He glanced around the room. ‘He should be along any minute.’

  Rosie was sure he’d just changed the subject but not at all sure why he would need to.

  ‘Shall we take a stroll and have a look?’ Nick took her hand in his and again, as he touched her, her sense of touch went into overdrive and she lost the power of speech. She nodded and he led her through the gallery.

  They wandered past the artworks, stopping in front of the Aboriginal artist’s paintings Alison had mentioned, but it was the wooden carvings beside these that caught her eye, a pair of mermaids, each about a foot long, carved out of shiny, dark brown wood. Their tails were inlaid with mother-of-pearl shell that caught the light, glistening as the mermaids reclined on the display stand.